I sat with Mom and Ken in the living room after breakfast. The Christmas tree had both white and colored lights strung around it. Dozens of ornaments and candy canes hung from the branches. Beneath the tree were a multitude of presents. Some were meant for my birthday while others were reserved for Christmas.

  I had a giant smile plastered on my face. It was time to open presents! The first that Mom handed me came with some explanation from her.

  “Grandpa Joe used to give me one of these every year for the holidays,” she said. “I feel like I should continue the tradition and start giving you one as well.”

  I tore the paper from to reveal a silver dollar coin. It was packaged in a blue velvet-lined box and protected with a shell of clear plastic around it. I pulled it out and looked it over on both sides. I tried Identifying it.

  I didn’t get anything out of the mana I spent. In fact, I got nothing. ‘Dollar coin’ was the most basic identification of it that could be imagined. This exemplified the problem I had with skills. They were basically useless! Not actually useless, but that wasn’t too far from the truth. The next time I tested skills—after the restart—I was going to include a way to level skills so that they could grow in power. Identify needed to be able to tell me that it was a silver coin, how pure the silver was, the weight, the approximate value, etc. Otherwise I might as well just use my eyes for all the good it did me.

  The next gift—another small one—came from Ken. It was incredibly light for its size.

  “I know I’m new in your life,” he said, “but I hope to be your step-dad one day.”

  This comment got a glare from Mom and an eye roll from me. I opened the gift and found a balsa wood airplane inside. It was bound in a lose plastic film with instructions of how to put it together. I hadn’t played with one of those in years!

  “Thanks, Ken,” I said, putting it down next to the silver dollar.

  Mom and Ken exchanged gifts while I was given a bigger one, which was my last Christmas gift.

  “You’ll open your birthday gifts after everyone leaves later,” she told me when I asked.

  The bigger box contained a small hobby telescope. With the resolution it gave, I would only be able to see the moon with any real detail—maybe get a glimpse of the other planets if I was lucky enough. And even then, they’d just appear as stars even with that magnification.

  Mom cleaned up the wrapping paper while Ken helped me set the telescope up for the next time the sky was clear.

  A couple hours later, I heard a knock on the door.

  “Eddy, can you get the door?” Mom called from the kitchen.

  I tore my focus away from the airplane that I had been launching around the living room to walk to the front door. I unlocked the deadbolt. I twisted the knob and pulled the door open. On the other side was Dad with his girlfriend—Jessica. His parents were slipping and sliding their way from their car towards the door.

  “Hey Dad,” I said, giving him a hug.

  “Hey, kid,” he said with a smile. “Gonna let us in before we freeze?”

  I rolled my eyes. I gave him space to enter Mom’s house. Jessica gave me a quick hug after she’d hung her coat on a peg by the door.

  “Merry Christmas,” I said to them and to my grandparents as they stomped through the door right after.

  “The same to you,” Grandpa Milton said.

  “And a happy birthday!” Grandma Rose added.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  I led them to the living room where they placed their gifts by the tree. Mom left the kitchen with Ken long enough to greet everyone and open the next round of gifts. I got food and clothing from Dad and Jessica, and a stack of books about farming from Grandpa Milton and Grandma Rose.

  Grandma Rose joined Mom and Ken in the kitchen afterwards to help with the cooking. Aside from presents, Dad, Jessica, and my grandparents had brought sides and desserts for Christmas dinner. I helped bring those items into the kitchen but then left again afterwards. There was only so much room in there and getting involved would be a recipe for disaster!

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  Forty minutes later, Mom said that Christmas dinner was ready.

  “Come and eat,” she said. “I don’t know where Grandpa Joe is, but we should start before everything goes cold. Grab a plate and take what you like.”

  I did what she said and got a little bit of everything onto my plate. I sat in the dining room next to Dad and Grandpa Milton. The food was really good. I couldn’t help but go back for seconds before everyone else had been seated with food. That was when Mom came into the dining room with a worried expression on her face. She whispered something to Ken that I couldn’t hear. Ken immediately got up and excused himself from the table before dashing out the door. I heard a car’s engine turn over before it rumbled away down the road.

  We finished eating food—and dessert—over the next hour. I could tell that Mom was getting increasingly worried. She was pacing back and forth and not really eating much of what was in front of her.

  After dessert, Mom, Dad, Jessica, and my grandparents got together to sing me happy birthday. The cake was small—we’d just eaten dessert after all—with twelve candles on it. Mom’s hand shook as she lit them.

  “Make a wish,” Jessica said once they’d finished the song.

  A wish was the last thing I wanted to do. After all, that’s how I ended up in this monster apocalypse time looping mess in the first place! I made no wish and blew out the candles. The door slammed open just as everyone was clapping. I turned my head to see Ken’s face looking at Mom with a grim expression.

  “Where’s Dad?” Mom asked Ken.

  Ken shook his head. He walked close to her and whispered into her ear. I could see her face drop when he did which made my heart sink.

  “It can’t be!” Mom cried out.

  That made me realize that something bad had happened to Grandpa Joe! He was supposed to live another two more years, so I didn’t think whatever it was happened to be fatal. At the same time, I didn’t remember him getting seriously injured either.

  “Milton, can you watch Eddy?” she asked. “Something’s happened to my father.”

  “Sure,” Dad said.

  With that, Mom raced out the door with Ken. Tears streaming down her face as she did.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Dad once she had left.

  “I don’t like to guess,” he said, “but I think your grandfather’s in a bad way. The roads are a bit icy so maybe he was in an accident. I don’t know why she didn’t bring you, though.”

  We finished eating the cake together. Dad helped me pack up my unopened gifts before taking me with him back to his apartment—he’d moved to something nicer a year ago when he was able to afford it… Jessica probably had something to do with that decision.

  I didn’t hear anything from Mom for two days. I’d tried to call her phone—it was dead. I tried calling Ken, but he never picked up. Eventually, she called me back.

  “Sorry for not answering your calls,” she said with a ragged breath.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Dad—Grandpa Joe—passed away on Christmas,” she said before bursting into tears. “Sorry. It’s hard to talk about it still. He—he was driving to see us but hit a patch of ice. The car crossed the double yellow and straight into a semi. He stood no chance. I-I didn’t even get to say goodbye!”

  Mom cried into the phone for several minutes while I tried to console her. Eventually she was able to choke out the rest of it.

  “I’m trying to arrange the funeral right now. Please give me some time to get everything in order. I’ll see you next week, I promise.”

  “Alright, Mom,” I said. “I love you. Stay safe.”

  “Love you too. And sorry again…”

  “I understand.”

  Grandpa Joe’s early death was my fault. Maybe not directly. I hadn’t laid the ice there nor had I driven the semi into his car. At the same time, my returning to the past made him drive to Mom’s place for my birthday and Christmas where he otherwise would have stayed home.

  He’d been such an awesome grandfather for the years we’d spent together. I’d gotten to know him a lot more than I had the first time around. I knew that I would need to rely on him again in the future, and it hurt to know that our time together had been cut short. It was my own damned fault!

  I didn’t need to tell Mom or Dad how I felt. I knew—deep down—that I was to blame. Next time, I’d have to let him know to be careful. Maybe it wouldn’t even matter. After all, I planned on having a lot more money to throw around. Mom and Dad wouldn’t be living where they were today, and who knew what would happen. It was a sobering reminder that every action I took had consequences—even ones I didn’t foresee.

  The funeral was held about an hour away from where Grandpa Joe used to live. The cemetery there held his parents and my grandmother. There was a vacant plot next to her for him when he passed.

  I went with Mom. We were both dressed in black. The funeral was a small and somber affair, though I did notice several people who I did not recognize. They had an air to them that I just couldn’t place—regimented in some kind of way.

  The church where the cemetery was attached was a small one. Mom and some of his friends gave short eulogies. I walked by the casket to say goodbye to his face. It was ashen and vibrant at the same time—makeup, I assumed. When the service was over, we left out the side to the cemetery carrying the coffin.

  The plot where he was supposed to be buried had been dug out by a tractor. The dirt was placed on a tarp to one side. A priest was there to say his piece. Then it was time to lower the casket. It was heavy, even for me. Mom and I held one of the ropes while a stronger man held each of the other three ends. It dropped down inch by inch until it came to a rest on the bottom.

  Ritually, it was time to toss a shovel full of dirt into the grave. Mom went first. She cried and her hands shook the whole time. The dirt drummed on the casket below. Then I went next. I took the shovel and stuck it into the pile of dirt. I got a good scoop. I brought it over the the grave and sprinkled it down.

  Sorry, Grandpa Joe, I thought. I should have been more aware of what I was changing.

  When I was done, I gave the shovel to the next person. The procession of grave-buriers went on for several minutes before the last person stuck the shovel into the pile and left it in there. The machine would come back later to fill the hole in and set the headstone.

  Before we left to go home, I hugged Mom while she cried by the grave.

  “He’s gone,” she whispered. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

  I made a promise to myself right then not to let the same thing happen in the future. I didn’t think I’d be able to save him from death completely—he’d died when I was fourteen, after all—but I wanted him to at least live that long next time.

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